


Your ghost I see

by wildcursive



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, M/M, Sent Back in Time, Time Travel, spoilers for the whole game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-12-09 22:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11678712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcursive/pseuds/wildcursive
Summary: King Noctis dies, ending the Starscourge once and for all. Then he wakes up again, back at the start of his journey, where his advisor seems to be the only other person who remembers everything that happened to them the first time around. Fate can be changed, but it is rarely merciful, just like the Astrals themselves.





	1. Noctis

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first multi-chapter fic in about 8 years and I'm pretty excited (but also nervous) about it. This idea formed some time ago and when I saw that one of the Ignoct week prompts was time travel, I decided I'd try to have the whole thing finished and post it then. Alas, real life didn't let me do so, so here's the fist chapter, I'll really try for regular updates. Also, as I said in my other fic, I am one of those people who don't own a PS4 and only watched lots of playthroughs, so if you see any glaring factological mistakes, please tell me. Also this isn't betaread and I'm posting from mobile, I hope the formatting's okay. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Written for Ignoct week 2017: Day 3: Situational prompt: Time travel AU

“I walked tall… and though it took me a while, I’m ready now.”  


The first step is always the hardest, his father used to say, but right then, he thinks, nothing has ever felt more excruciating than the last one, than facing the throne.  


“I love you all. Luna, guys…” The ring flares and with it, the pain. “Dad. The time we had together, I cherish.”  


He calls upon the kings of Lucis and then there is little more than the fog of excruciating pain as each blade passes through his chest. Like a movie reel, he sees his friend’s faces: Promto, Gladio, Ignis, Luna. Finally, he opens his eyes to his father’s ghost. It might not be fair, but he is ready, this is his birthright.  


The fight with Ardyn in the Beyond feels short, but at the same time endless, just as his stay in the crystal did. When it finally ends, the pain in his chest lingers, the hole still there, until, finally, the darkness envelops him whole. 

Then King Noctis Lucis Caelum opens his eyes again. The midday sunshine is scorching his arms and neck, there’s solid ground underneath his feet, gray asphalt stretching far into the distance, and smooth, hot metal underneath his palms. The Regalia looks as shiny as it was the day they left Insomnia in it.  


Noctis staggers as the pain in his chest suddenly flares again, as bright and terrible as the moment the first blade went through him. His legs give out underneath him and his body slumps hard against the car’s door. The car, as slow as it was moving, now stops completely and the shrill sound of its horn cuts through the white noise in his ears. _Ha, must have scared Ignis._  


It’s not Ignis’ voice, however, but Prompto’s worried “Noct!” and Gladio’s gruff “Ignis!” that follow and suddenly Noct is being made to lean with his full weight on his Shield. Each movement seems to tear at the hole in his chest, but as he looks down, vision blurry, he sees only one of the dark t-shirts he favored in his youth, no holes and no blood. The pain begins to fade and he realizes Gladio has dragged him the few steps needed to get to the backseat. Now he can see Ignis’ form slumped over on the driver’s seat in front of him.  


“First Blondie here manages to break the car,” comes Gladio’s voice from above him.  


“Hey,” Prompto tries to protest, voice full of indignation.  


”…now you two somehow manage to get heatstroke at the exact same time. I’m gonna come out and say it, this journey isn’t starting out well.”  


Ignis seems as unable to respond as Noctis himself feels.  


“All right,” Gladio says, lifting his hands from the passenger door. “You’re lucky we’re close enough to Hammerhead already. Put the roof back up and stay here while Prompto and I get some help.”  


“Right-o.” comes Prompto’s voice from the other side of the car and the sound of their footsteps soon grows quieter.  


Noctis leans his head back against the seat, looking up at the sky, waiting for the last remnants of pain to bleed out of him as his heartbeat gradually slows. 

“Highness,” comes Ignis’ voice, muffled. “Are you all right,” a grunt of pain and Noct can hear him stirring. “What happened?”

“I don’t know Specs,” he answers, lifting his head to look at his advisor. Ignis has his head pillowed on his forearms, leaning on the steering wheel. From this angle, Noctis can see the sweat running down his neck. “I think I was hallucinating… I’m not sure what's real right now.”

He leans forward, the leather of the driver’s headrest heavenly cold against his forehead. It’s on pure instinct that he reaches out with his right hand to touch the other man’s shoulder, searching for something to ground himself with. The movement, when his brain finally catches up with it, seems to startle him as much as it startles Ignis, whose whole body jerks up at the contact and then freezes for a few seconds. Finally, he turns back, twisting his neck to look at Noctis, who leans to the side to get a better look at him, hand still gripping his shoulder. His friend’s face is younger, free of jagged scars; his hair – shorter, in its usual updo, if matted with sweat. Instead of the tinted visor, he is wearing his old glasses and Noctis can see the deep green of his eyes for what feels like the first time in an eternity. He’s pretty sure his own expression matches the bewilderment on his advisor’s face. They remain like this for several long moments, each staring as if seeing a ghost in the face of the other. Noctis is not sure he isn’t. But if this is real Ignis will know, he has to. Noctis has nothing to lose.

“Iggy,” he whispers, cautious. “Do you see me?”

Ignis closes his eyes and lowers his head, inhaling deeply. The motion makes the underside of his jaw come in contact with the tops of Noctis’ fingers. 

“For the first time in ten years, yes, Noct, I do.”

Noctis realizes he had been holding his breath when it comes out of him in a long, shaky exhale, fingers squeezing at the other’s shoulder in relief. He is not alone. Ignis slowly leans his back on the seat, as if careful not to dislodge Noct’s arm, and turns his head to the side, this time looking somewhere far off in the distance. 

“If this is the afterlife, the Astrals surely have a very dark sense of humor.”

“I don’t think it is, Iggy. I think this is real.”

“You don’t mean-“

"I think we got sent back to the beginning. But Prompto and Gladio…”

“Don’t seem to have been affected, yes. Could it only be us?” Noctis hears it now – Ignis, back in his strategist mode, as if this is an ordinary fight and not concerning possible reincarnation.

“But how? I died, yes, but the three of you were supposed to live, to see the light again.” 

He leans his forehead on the back of Ignis’ seat again, the headrest the only thing separating them. Ignis’ left hand comes up to rest over Noct’s right one on his shoulder. 

“I- we all felt it, the moment you were,” Ignis’ voice comes out raw, pained. “taken from us. It was… excruciating, for lack of a stronger word.”

“Iggy-“ he whispers, breathless once again.

“I think I got fatally wounded in the meantime, demons were still rampaging about, you see.”

“Oh.”

There is much more to say, but Noctis finds himself unable to get the words out, to ask his friend if he at least felt the return of the light. But of what use would that be, with the hot afternoon sun over their heads, with Ignis’ sight restored. Whatever happened, they are here now. For what purpose, he’s still not sure. They will figure it out, he decides. For now, their wounds are too fresh. 

So they remain in silence, hands still clasped over Ignis’ shoulder. Noctis isn’t sure how much time passes, but he must drift off, because it feels like just a few short moments later when Prompto and Gladio’s voices startle him into full awareness.

"Iggy, Noct, we're back!" 

"What's wrong with you two,” Gladio half yells, reproachful. “I tell you to put the roof up and instead you decide to take a nap out in the sun." 

Ignis, to his credit, does not seem startled and calmly sits up straight. His hand left Noctis' own at the sound of Gladio's voice and now his movement dislodges Noct's arm from his shoulder. 

"We decided to risk a bit more sunshine rather than lose the wind we get with the hood down," he answers and, Six, how does he sound so put together after what they've just been pulled from? 

"Right," agrees Gladio. "You two okay to make it back to Hammerhead on foot? Cindy's sending someone to tow the car."

"I am well enough," Ignis responds almost nonchalantly, but his features soften as he turns towards him. "Will you be okay, Noct." 

"Yeah, I'll manage."

He gets up and the four set out. Gladio and Ignis walk side by side, mostly silent in front of him and Prompto, who’s filling the quiet with his excited chattering about Cindy. Even if the ten years he spent in the crystal had felt shorter, Noctis’ memory of the beginning of their journey is more distant and unclear than he’d like it to be. Still, he is pretty sure Prompto is repeating his poetic waxing from their first visit to Hammerhead word for word. Well, from his and Ignis’ first visit, because their friends, it seems, have no memory of it. Soon he tunes out Prompto’s chatter in favor of staring at Ignis’ back. His advisor seems tense and, he would guess, not only because they left the Regalia unsupervised. Still, the car is apparently bothering him enough that every other minute he turns to look over his shoulder and check if it’s still where they left it, not a quarter mile away. Noct takes in his face at every turn – the once again adolescent look, the lack of scars. Ignis’ eyes also drift to him after every check, as if in silent acknowledgement, as if he is doing the exact same thing. 

They have a lot to figure out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this first chapter, tell me what you think, if you'd like. You can also find me on tumblr @aro-hawke.


	2. Ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again! I'm finally back with an update, sorry for the wait. Also sorry, because this is just... lots of angst. I hope I'll manage to get the next chapter done faster, but I have a big move coming next week, so apologies in advance if that makes the wait for it even longer than this one. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy and do yell at me for any factological mistakes. :d

“Walk tall, my friends.” 

Noctis’ last words to them. So solemn and unfitting of the young man whose face he remembers from ten years ago, yet so proper for their King. This is the last time he’ll hear his voice, Ignis knows. He wants to shout for everything to stop, to make these final moments last, because what use is there in walking, if one no longer has a destination? But he can’t let Noct down, he has to endure. He will try. Forcing his voice to remain steady, Ignis answers accordingly.

“Godspeed... and take care” His chest hurts as he places his fist over it. “Majesty.”

There’s the sound of departing footsteps as Noct heads to the throne room - to his death - and then Ignis hears more demons appearing all around the courtyard. He braces himself, his duty is not yet finished. 

He fights almost mechanically, letting instinct take over as his mind reels. Then, in a single excruciating instant his heart stops beating as he feels it, the exact moment his King’s life is snuffed out. The severing of their connection is so unbearably agonizing, it brings him to his knees. Twin pained shouts ring out as Gladio and Prompto must be going through the same thing, but he can barely register them over the sound of blood rushing in his ears and almost misses the demon claws sinking into his skin. It is as if a hole has opened in his chest and it’s more painful than the actual deep wound in his side he is likely now bleeding to death from. His world has been dark for ten years and the pain of losing his link to Noctis is so overbearing now, that he is not sure whether his whole body is shutting down or if it’s only his mind. Death is supposed to come with peace, with all the pain easing, but his entire being is strung up tight, the pain driving him over the edge, paralyzed, locked in his own head. He almost misses it, Prompto’s pained shout.

“The Sun-“

Ignis opens his eyes again, for the first time in a decade, and everything around him is too bright, while the hole in his chest still burns raw and open. It takes him a few moments to catch up to his surroundings, but reflex kicks in and his leg falls hard on the brake, while his hands slam on the wheel and accidentally activate the Regalia’s horn. With his head lifted, he can see the straight line of the road ahead, the shapes of familiar buildings in the distance. _Hammerhead_ , his brain supplies while he is still trying to figure out how he is seeing with such clarity. His dreams have not been full of such detailed images in a long time. 

“Ignis, what the-” Gladio shouts from somewhere behind, while from his other side he can hear Prompto calling for Noctis.

It is all too much to take in. If this is the afterlife, Ignis thinks, then Ifrit must have somehow survived to be punishing him like this. 

***

They reach Hammerhead quickly, with the Regalia towed in soon enough after. Gladio and Prompto are still throwing the two of them distrustful and worried looks and Ignis is almost thankful when the more pressing problem of their lack of funds soon distracts them. Both he and Noct expect the steep repair price that will leave them dependent on Cid’s hunts for gil, but the other two insist on leaving that problem for the next day and getting some rest at the caravan for now. He wants to argue, but Noctis beats him to it and agrees, then, with the gil he managed to get by selling some of the few supplies they set out with, sends their friends to buy ingredients for Ignis to cook dinner with. Even after a decade, some things never change. 

With Gladio and Prompto gone, they are left to get settled in the caravan and Ignis, though constantly aware of Noctis impossibly being with him again and this bizarre past - _Or is it future?_ \- they are stuck in, lets himself just look. He didn’t forget his friends' faces, but there are so many little details that have slipped his memory with the years. He learned to live without his sight, to almost not regret losing it. Not much use of it in a world plunged into darkness anyways, he used to reason with himself. But he has missed colors and right then and there the soft beige of the walls and the clear blue of the sky that can be seen through the small window are soothing and he allows himself just a few moments of contemplation. If they have indeed been sent to the past and given a second chance, will they be able to stop Ardyn without Noctis dying? Will he manage to avoid losing his eyesight, to see the road to Gralea and the Crystal, to watch Noctis grow old? 

“You doing alright there, Specs?” Noctis’ eyes, when he turns to throw him an inquisitive look, are clear and blue too.

“Under the circumstances,” he answers, feeling a smile lifting up the corners of his mouth.

 

Soon they are settled and Noct collapses on the small beat-up couch right next to him. 

“This is a mess. Advise me, Iggy?”

“I’m afraid I can offer you no guidance at the moment, Noct,” he answers, taking his glasses off and rubbing a hand over his eyes. “If this is indeed not the Afterlife, I suppose we have been given another chance on this journey.

“Yes, but how could we do anything differently? I’m supposed to die to rid us of the Starscourge,” Noctis’ voice seems to falter. “I already did.”

Ignis thinks back to the first time they were here, in this cabin. When did Noctis realize what fate had in store for him, he wonders. In retrospect, he had always seen the signs, but had never allowed himself to consider the probability, not until Gralea. 

“Perhaps the Astrals have managed to somehow alter the prophecy? I really do not know," he answers honestly, even as loath as he is to admit how useless he is in the current situation.

“We need a way to ask them, we need the Crystal… or Luna. Wait-” Noctis leaps from his seat, eyes wide. “The Crystal, Luna, dad, they are all still in Insomnia right now. Maybe we were sent back to save them from the Niffs’ attack! We have to go back right now, Specs,” he almost yells, grabbing for Ignis’ wrist. 

“Noct,” he says softly and it feels like the hole in his chest is reopening for Noctis and for all the pain he has to endure again. “We won’t manage to get back before the ceremony, for all we know the attack could be happening right now and even if it hasn’t, the Empire’s forces are already in Insomnia, we wouldn’t be able to stop them now.”

His Prince drops his hand and turns away from him, his head down. 

“So, what?” he asks. It’s the same tone Ignis heard when he first had to bear the terrible news of the King’s demise, of their home falling. “I am supposed to sit in this damn caravan while my dad is dying, while they are destroying the city again?” Noctis’ hands on his sides are now balled into fists and shaking. “Didn’t you say this was supposed to be a second chance, Ignis,” his voice is choked up and accusatory. 

He gets up to stand behind Noctis and puts a hand on his shoulder, surprised when the other man doesn’t flinch away from it.

“I’m so sorry, Noct. If I have learned anything in the past decade, it is that divine providence is usually cruel.” 

Noctis turns to look at him then, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I had accepted it all - dad, Luna, my own death - not fully, I think, but they were all real things and I went through them. Didn’t I do enough, Iggy?” Ignis’ own vision goes blurry when the other man buries his head in his shoulder, resigned. 

“Perhaps we are not meant to stop Insomnia’s fall,” he says, moving his arm, so it goes around the Prince’s back. “But we can still stop Ardyn before he plunges the world into darkness.”

Noctis remains silent, but a hand comes to clutch at the fabric of Ignis’ shirt.

“I am sorry, Noct,” he whispers again. “That you need to go through this again, that you had to go through it at all.” That he has been the one to take hope away from him yet again. 

_‘I would do anything to relieve you of this burden, I’d take it from you myself,’_ he doesn’t say. 

His own voice, when he continues, sounds raw and chocked up to his ears. “We will find a way to change things, I promise you.”

With that Ignis leaves Noctis on the couch, feeling as exhausted as the other man looks, and busies himself with getting the small kitchen space ready for dinner preparation. Gladio and Prompto return quickly after that and with the afternoon’s events he at least easily manages to pass the Prince’s mood off as heat exhaustion. With the fresh products set out in front of him, he opens his recipe book to find it much emptier than it had been by the time they reached Altissia. Of course, he thinks, good thing he memorized all of his recipes after Noctis’ disappearance. He will find time later to carefully write all of them down again. For now he settles on a simple stew, lighter on the vegetables, because with the current array of ingredients, that’s as close as he can get to cooking something that will comfort Noct. 

The evening passes in much the same way. Gladio remains agitated, pretending to read one of his books, while Prompto seems content to pass the time playing King’s Knight with a mostly silent Noctis. Ignis sits down with his recipe book, fully intent on refilling as many pages as he can in one evening, but ends up staring at a blank page, pen in hand, with his mind stuck on possible explanations and plans, but always winding up at a dead end. 

“What’s up Iggy, no new recipes?” Gladio asks, breaking him out of his stupor. 

He looks up. Noctis must have gone to bed, because Prompto is now alone on the sofa, still on his phone.

“Something like that. I believe the sun did me no favors today,” he answers, closing the book and putting it in his pocket. 

Some rest seems like his best option after that too, so Ignis wishes his friends a good night, before quickly going through the motions of getting ready for bed. He settles down, but even as tired as he is, sleep does not come. He turns around several times, pretends he’s asleep when Gladio and Prompto finally settle down for the night and finally, what feels like hours later, after having gone through every possible scenario his mind could conjure, lets it succumb to the exhaustion too.

It feels like only minutes later, when a hand at his shoulder gently shakes him awake and he hears Noctis’ loud whisper.

“Iggy, wake up. I know what we have to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this second chapter! Kudos and coments are love and you can find me on tumblr as @aro-hawke.


	3. Noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Well, as I said last chapter, there was a big move, like, 7 time zones away from home big. And it has been kicking my ass lots, which is why this chapter is 2 months late. I am so sorry. Anyways, here we go with some explanations, promises, and more angst. The next chapter should hopefully be up in the next week when I get done with my midterms. As usual this is unbetad, so any and all mistakes are mine.

Exhausted and weary, Noctis closes his eyes to the darkness of the inside of the caravan and opens them to vast blue ether. Disorientation turns to anguish, which swiftly turns to rage as he frantically searches for any indication of what is real. Was being sent back to the past into his younger body just a dream? Did he ever leave the crystal? He looks around in a frenzy and of course, there he is when Noctis turns. The Draconian’s giant form towers over him once again.

“What is this?” Noctis demands, only realizing his fists are tightly clenched when he feels the pain of his nails digging into his palms. The ether is still shimmering in its calming blue, but he is seeing red. “How dare you bring me back here?”

“The Chosen One has not been returned to the crystal. This is but a dream,” the Astral responds, seemingly unbothered by his outburst.

“Right,” he tries to steady himself, rage partially subsiding. “Not much better. Why am I here, then?”

“A second chance falls upon the King of Kings.”

“Did I not do enough? What more do you want?”

“The world without the Starscourge was still a ruin. The King of Kings’ ascension completed was proved insufficient.”

 _He dares._ “Insufficient,” Noctis repeats, rage boiling over again. He does not realize he is raising his voice until his own shouts reach his ears. “I gave up everything! You stole 10 years from me and from the world; you made me sacrifice myself!”

“And was proved wrong, Chosen One. This is a chance to live out your life.”

“You… You were the one,” he has lost control of his voice and it keeps getting louder with every syllable, his throat is starting to hurt with every shout. “You told me I had to die and I accepted my fate! Now you suddenly want me to start over, to go through everything again in order to, what? Stay around after in order to fix _your_ mess?!” he closes his eyes for a moment unable to look at the still features of Bahamut’s mask. ‘ _Don’t make me go through this again,_ ’ he prays silently, while trying to catch his breath.

His answer, when he looks at him again, is only a slight inclination of the Astral’s head and Noctis feels himself suddenly drained of all energy, laughing bitterly, for there is not much else he is able to do.

“And if I decline?”

“Would you decline, King of Kings, if you had the chance to mend the past.”

Noctis straightens. He considered the possibility of somehow changing enough that the eternal night never comes, as he lay unable to sleep just before exhaustion finally overtook him and sent him back to this hellish blue space. He imagined getting to Luna before Ardyn, ensuring her survival; keeping Ignis from whatever cost him his vision; ending up on top of the train again and pushing Ardyn, the real one this time, off it with a smile. But all that was only a brief flash of hope that was swiftly crushed by the reality of ten years the world spent suffering on the Astrals’ whim and by him and Ignis being returned just in time to live through their home’s fall again. Now here’s the Draconian, standing in front of him in all of his majesty and offering him a second chance. A tense breath escapes him as he tries to steel his expression and steady his voice. Very well, then. _Bahamut, you better have a lot of time_ , Noctis thinks, because, _Six_ , does he have questions.

“What is it, then? I need to do everything all over again and just somehow defeat Ardyn without spending a decade trapped in the crystal and dying in order to fulfill _your_ prophecy?”

“The Chosen One has a chance to fix more than his own end,” the Astral replies.

His nails must have already broken the skin of his palms but Noctis doesn’t feel the pain through the fog of sorrow and fury setting over him one more.

 “Yet you let my father die again! You claim I can change everything, but you start with taking from me! Did you bring Ignis back, too, so he can sacrifice himself instead?” he asks, vowing to claw his way out of this blue hell and join Ardyn and Ifrit if he is met with another silent nod.

“The King of Kings must understand. The Glacean’s request has been too enormous, it could not be granted without great cost.”

“The Glacean? Gentiana made you bring us back?”

 _Of course she did_ , Noctis thinks. Bahamut would never interfere on his own.   

“Shiva argued in favor of returning the King of Kings. The cost of his death proved higher than the outcome.”

“Then she knows and she could help us?” He remembers the cold on the train and Ardyn shattering. With Shiva’s help and Ignis to advise him, changing the past doesn’t seem as impossible. "And what about Prompto and Gladio?"

“Only the Advisor was brought to assist the King. No other soul must learn Fate has been changed. Two minds can be shielded at all times, but any more involved would sooner or later come under the Infernian’s scrutiny and make his defeat impossible.”

“So Ignis and I are on our own? Just like that?” The hope that was blossoming in his chest withers again and he wonders why he even dared think there’s a chance. “And how are we to change Fate if we don’t even know where to begin!”

“My covenant with you is forged, O King, the power of the ring will be with you when you reach it. Shiva, too, will know, but the other covenants must be reforged and the royal tombs revisited. The key is with the Oracle. By their united powers, Chosen One and Oracle may banish the scourge at no sacrifice of their own.”

Noctis feels his fists unclench as his anger starts to slowly bleed out. Against his better judgement, he is back at the start of the seemingly endless cycle of hope and despair Bahamut seems bent on making him go around over and over again.

 “We have to save Luna, this is what you’re saying?”

He doesn’t receive an answer because the next moment the Draconian’s shape in front of him has gone blurry as the blue ether of the crystal’s heart dissipates.

“Luna,” Noctis breathes, opening his eyes. The interior of the caravan is dark around him, the outlines of furniture barely illuminated by the station’s light seeping through the small window.

“What an ass,” Noctis mutters, but there’s a flutter of hope in his chest as he turns to wake Ignis up.

***

Sunrise is nearing when they manage to get up and dressed without waking the other two and Noctis finally leads Ignis out of the caravan. Outside they get two plastic chars from around the table and carry them a short distance from the caravan to the side of the diner. He does not want to be overheard; this chance is too precious to waste.

They settle down and Noctis begins without preamble, with Luna. At Ignis’ initial confusion he backtracks, goes over the covenants, Bahamut’s involvement, Shiva’s request, the ring.

“And Prompto and Gladio?”

Noctis knows Ignis can see the answer on his face and the next second his friend’s expression turns as crestfallen as he feels.

“They can’t know any of this,” he answers, looking down at his hands in his lap, unable to stand it. “Bahamut said only you were brought back to assist me. He is somehow shielding our minds, I think, but if we were to share any of this with someone else-”

“It would eventually reach Ifrit, or Ardyn,” Ignis finishes for him.

“Yes,” Noctis lifts his head again. Ignis doesn’t deserve him behaving like a coward, so he tries to meet his friend’s eyes to convey how sincere he is. “We are on our own for now, Specs. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Noct. What’s important is that we can change your and Lady Lunafreya's fates.”

“Of course I do. Specs, you are just as important! You did not deserve any of this!” And it hurts to even think of it, of Ignis’ slight sway, of the scars peeking under darkened glasses as he turned towards Noctis’ bed in Altissia, of his quiet determination. A small sacrifice, he had called it. _No_ , Noctis decides. Their main goal might be to save Luna, but he will die before he allows Ignis to lose his sight this time, Astrals be damned.

Ignis is obviously preparing to voice his disagreement on the matter of his importance, but he stops him with a raised hand.

“Listen to me, Specs. I do not remember a moment of my life when you weren’t by my side, but I was never grateful enough for it… for you.” Ignis’ expression has morphed into something unreadable and Noctis feels his resolve give way to shame, but he has to get it all out, his friend must know. “I failed you after Altissia; I was... too wrapped up in myself when I should have been there for you.”

“Noct, no-” Ignis tries to stop him with a hand on his knee.

“No, please, let me finish.” Ignis must be surprised by his pleading, because he closes his mouth and settles, retracting his hand. Noctis feels the cool night air more acutely with the withdrawal of that warmth. “For most of my conversation with Bahamut I wanted nothing to do with this, I could not live through our journey again. But I don’t have to and neither do you. This is a promise, Specs. I will not let you suffer the same fate this time. We will save Luna and the world and you will be there to see it.”

Ignis remains silent for several tense seconds, before meeting his eyes again.

“Thank you, Noct.” His words are heavy with something indecipherable, but there is warmth in his eyes and that is all Noctis needs. His promise has been accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Kudos and comments are love and I am @aro-hawke on tumblr as usual!


End file.
